Take Back My Life
by StumblingAlong
Summary: For too long, Robin Hood has remained silent while Zelena has terrorized him and the ones he loves the most. The Wicked Witch attempted to take everything away from his life, but there's one thing she should've expected of the most famous thief there is: He's here to steal it back. (Robin centric, with OutlawQueen)


**(A/N: I'm going to say TRIGGER WARNING because I don't go too detailed, but this is addressing, more head-on, Robin's deception and assault by Zelena, so please don't read if you're uncomfortable with this subject.**

 **This is a Robin POV fanfiction.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own 'Once Upon A Time' or any of the show's characters, all rights belong to Adam Horowitz, Eddy Kitsis, and ABC. This is written purely for entertainment.)**

Robin had awoken with a start, propelled into a sitting position in his bed, short of breath with cold sweat sticking to his skin body like a morning dew adheres to blades of grass. His hand had lifted to his chest, hovered over his heart, which had been vibrating against his ribcage.

He had taken a moment, closed his eyes, had focused on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth, in and out, in and out, until his head had cleared of the fuzziness that plagued it beforehand and his throat had felt less constricted, until the stranglehold on his windpipe had disapated.

He had looked to his left, seen Regina, her soundly slumbering self had faced him, one of her hands trapped between her cheek and her pillow, her lips contorted into a content smile, her chest had rhythmically risen and fallen under the peaceful state of sleep.

 _Content, peaceful._

Two adjectives Robin could no longer relate to.

Which is how he has ended up here, now, in the hood of nightfall, outside of the room that Zelena is locked in.

He had crept about he and Regina's bedroom, careful not to rouse his love, had dressed himself quickly, determinedly, before he had skulked through the quiet, abandoned streets of Storybrooke, past Granny's, past David and Mary Margaret's apartment, until he had reached his destination of the belowground hospital.

The nurse at the entrance desk had elevated her eyebrows in surprise at his appearance, no doubt because of the late hour, or perhaps because he didn't have Mayor Mills by his side as he always had whenever he's had to step foot in this bunker. Either way, she had cocked her head to the side, had silently allowed him entry in and he hadn't known whether to be grateful or not, he could only imagine what her thoughts, what the town's collective thoughts on this whole, sordid ordeal must be.

The town mayor, formerly the Evil Queen, whose sister, the Wicked Witch of the West, was imprisoned, as well as impregnanted, by her sister's paramor- a common thief.

It's as if it's a story pulled from one of those soap operas Marian had become accustomed to watching in New York.

 _No._ Zelena, not Marian.

Marian, his first love, a bright, beautiful woman of compassion and gentility, who was slain by the pale hands of the vile villainess on the opposite side of this wall, and whose image has been unfairly tainted, twisted up with tricks and schemes, suffocating her actual memory in Robin's head.

That's why he has to do this, why he is now, shakily, raising his hand to door handle, pulling it downward, and inviting himself into the darkened, padded room.

She's awake.

"Hello, sweet husband," She drawls and her voice sends a shiver of disgust racing down Robin's spine as he focuses his glare, trying not to let the red hair, now illuminated by moonlight through the room's small windows, that burns and scorches at the recesses of his psyche like flames, nor the disturbing, sly smile that crosses the witch's thin lips, intimidate him from his task, "Miss me, finally?"

He says nothing.

Instead, he grasps a chair from just outside the door, hauling it into the room before enclosing them inside, his stomach clenching painfully at the prospect of being trapped ( _again_!) with the hideous human being before him, but it's better than the idea of her escaping, of her on the loose, free to terrorize anyone else, anyone else he loves.

He drops the chair near the door, but facing her, Zelena, who wears a mask of amusement, as she observes his actions and he wishes that he had her blasted pendant, that he could transform into someone else because she's already observed him for so long, too long, without his knowledge, without his consent, had weaseled her way into watching him in the most mundane, but natural of habits, such as taking a drag of water or shaving down his facial scruff or kissing Roland goodnight.

Roland, his oh so brave, yet innocent son, the beat of his heart, the product of his being, who is now naive to the world truly surrounding him, which was, is, the better of scenarios, as opposed to if he had retained his memories of his resurrected "mother" who was actually a disguised psychopath, scarring him for the remainder of his life.

His resolve is reset with that notion and he takes his seat, folding his hands together in his lap, squeezing until his knuckles ache and rasps outs, "It's time I have a chat with you."

"And what you would-"

" _No_ ," It's a simple word, but Robin's voice is sharp, slicing through Zelena's sentence and, that, paired with his hardened stare, are enough for her to close her mouth and he chooses to ignore the taunting smirk in which it shapes to, as a fresh surge of ire courses through his veins, " _I_ am talking now."

"I won't ask you why," He begins, amazed with how leveled he's managed to keep his tone, what with his pulse thumping rapidly beneath his skin as if trying to punch it's way through the layer of flesh, "I already know you attribute your motives to your vendetta against Regina."

Regina, even her name tumbling from his lips feels as if it is filling a part of him he hadn't known was bare. Gods, that stubborn, passionate, strong, gorgeous, loving, wonderful woman who has consumed his every thought, has echoed through every inch of his soul since he first met her, who he will love more fiercely with every tomorrow than with every yesterday, until the day his body is ash and bone.

Who doesn't, no matter her sins of the past, deserve to share a single strand of DNA with sinister character he faces off with now.

"So, no," Robin swallows, glancing down, steadying himself, then looking back up at Zelena again, "I won't ask you why. I will, on the other hand, ask you how."

She scoffs, a bitter, mocking sound that has Robin untangling his hands, curling them into fists at his sides, instead, nails biting into the skin the his calloused palms, "If you aren't familiar with the ins and outs of magic by now, darling, I certainly cannot explain it to you."

His jaw tightens, his teeth baring in a sneer because if she can act derisively, so can he. "I'm quite acquainted with the notion, though it's usually with light magic, good magic, the kind the Savior did, the kind your sister does, the kind you will _never_ be capable of."

Robin notices Zelena's eye twitch, the corners of her lips pulling down into a scowl for a moment before she composes her icy exterior. He doesn't permit her to speak though, only tossed the barb at her in a heated rush of hatred, immature in theory, but seeing as it had an effect on her, he can't bring himself to feel badly about it. So he moves on, expands on his previous question.

"I want to know how, _how_ you could murder a woman, a pure soul who simply had the misfortune of crossing your wicked path? _How_ you could, then, masquerade as her, wear the same skin that you drained the life of, as if it were your own?" Marian, his poor, sweet Marian, who had suffered enough in her life because of him, still suffering in death, her character contorted, as much as he wishes he could say otherwise, forever in his mind, a toxic jumble of authenticity and deceit.

"Tell me _how_ you could hold a child, look into his eyes, allow him to offer you his love, the most precious treasure a four-year-old can bestow upon you and continue to lie to his face, to impose as his mother, as the person who gave him life, who he had, or had thought he had, _finally_ have the opportunity of knowing all because of your ideals of revenge." Roland, who'd been raised without a mother, who'd been nearly snatched by a flying monkey (another strike Zelena had made against his son, purposeful or not), had been uprooted and brought to a strange land, missing his memories, his tunics, and the familiarities of the forest in which he was born and raised. Robin's littlest Merry Man had been a target of Rumpelstiltskin's, acting under the command of Zelena, then had finally been content. His inherited dimples, that always made Robin's breath catch in his throat, dug deep into his smooth, olive skin the night he had had his first taste of ice cream with his father, with Regina, his first motherly figure, a woman who had saved his life, who he had taken easily to, then, presumeably, had regained his biological "Mama" back- only for her to be frozen, healed, then to pass out, in front of him, causing their family to abandon their place of home, again, for a strange, bustling land without magic, with more concrete than trees and more car alarms than whistling birds.

Regina's forgetting potion may have abated a portion of those recollections, but aware or not, those impressions, Roland's facial expressions of fear, sadness, shock, are imprinted in his father, no amount of magic could erase the emotion that Robin has had to watch his son, a four-year-old, for Gods sakes, barely older than a toddler, experience.

Robin takes in a deep breath, his fists trembling on either side of him, the thought of Roland putting him in a juxtaposition of stalling and propelling his momentum.

Zelena takes this pause, this minute of weakness, for her own advantage, of course, rolling her eyes, haughtily. "Oh, please. That little brat didn't care of I was his mother or not," She scrunches up her nose, imitating petulantly, "'Regina let me', as if the Evil Queen is some sort of Madonna."

"Don't," Robin chokes on the venom in his one spoken word, in all the unspoken ones he's ruminated on for weeks, gritting through his teeth, "Do _not_ speak of my son _ever_ again."

Zelena's eyes sparkle, as if entertained by him being enraged, satisfied by making him seethe, but she, strangely, stays silent.

So Robin continues, "And, no, your sister is far from saintly, but one of the many reasons why my son loves her, why _I_ love her, is because she is someone who works every day to redeem herself, whether it's expected of her or not. She has sacrificed herself for this town, these people, myself. Unlike you, Zelena, Regina is woman of growth, capable of love and light and how you can justify your hatred of her, for your shared mother's failures as a parent, is absolute insanity." He knows Regina doesn't need his defense, she's more than equipped to stand up for herself, not that she would care about the opinions of her half-sister anyway, but it's instinctive for Robin. He understands that she's not perfect, nobody is and some would say least of the 'Evil Queen', though he's never seen her that way. He has been resolute in not judging her for her past misdeeds, has loved every inch and crevice of her, dark or otherwise, because while Regina Mills may not be perfect, to Robin, she's perfectly imperfect.

And wholly undeserving of a comparison to the monster that sits opposite of him now, with narrow eyes and a malicious smirk, who has done more damage to his life than the force of his arrows have done to any target.

"Well, Robin Hood," Zelena begins, crosses her legs as she stays sitting on her cot, now drumming slender fingers over her knees, like a piranha making laps around it's prey in the water, "If we're asking 'how's', how was it that you were able to resume a life with your mousy little wife so soon after leaving your angelic soulmate?" Sarcasm drips off her accented voice like acid rain sears through tree leaves and it cuts at Robin, strikes a nerve still raw, unguarded, has him feeling resentful that even with a bloody cuff on her wrist, her pendant confiscated, she can still discover new methods of torture.

"I don't have to explain myself to _you_ ," He hisses, his eyes stinging and, Gods, no, he will not cry, he will not breakdown, he will not let her break him down, not again. A low growl emits from the depths of his throat and he knows, _knows_ , he doesn't have to give reason to Zelena, but if he allows her to goad him, to rile him, to make him feel worthless, to diminish her actions, putting them on the same level as his own, then she wins. And Robin will be damned if wicked wins.

"I lost hope, the one thing I always prided myself on. I was told I would never see the woman I love again and a woman I once loved, who I still loved in a sense, was standing before me, helpless, and asking me to make a choice- and I made the wrong one. I thought by trying to make the best of being stuck on the other side of that townline, of giving my son two parents, under one roof, who could love instead of bicker, was my only option of somehow living my life and in the process of trying to decide between right and wrong, of grasping at who I once was, I failed to follow my intuition and my heart.

"So, yes, I made my share of mistakes, _mistakes_ , as all humans do," His eyes unintentionally fill with tears and he blinks them back quickly, feels his heart bloodied, battered, and bruised in the pit of his belly. He is not the villain here, of that he is certain, no amount of errors in judgements can change that, so he snarls, "But I will be damned if I allow you to place the blame of your deception, your manipulations, onto me. I was your unknowing puppet for much too long- _not anymore_."

"Aw, that's sweet. Do you whisper that rubbish to my dear sis when you make love to her like you did to me?"

"I didn't 'make love' to _you_!" He yells, hoarsely, the power of his anger overwhelming his vocal chords as he jumps to his feet, kicking the chair he had sat upon across the small distance of the room. He scrubs a hand through his hair, anything to ground him, to focus on something other than the blood boiling, zipping through his veins, making his limbs quiver. He tightens the grip on his mane, turns his back to Zelena as he speaks now, lowly, "I had _sex_. I slept with whom I assumed was Marian, who was technically my wife, who was threatening to take my son and go off, on her own, into a land foreign to us both unless I proved my affection for her. Her, _**not**_ _you_."

He rotates back now, finds Zelena a bit hunched, does he detect a hint of remorse? Or perhaps even fear? Robin's afraid of himself right now, he wouldn't be surprised if she were as well.

But it doesn't matter, not now. Not when he is finally saying these words that he has held bottled inside, a misplaced sense of shame swallowing any time he had even thought of it before. He shakes his head and manages to return his glower to the witch without unshed tears blurring his vision, "I never, I would have _never_ , _**ever**_ , touched you if I had known your true identity. I have lived in the forest for the majority of my life, but I _never_ felt as dirty as I had knowing it was _you_ I had laid with."

"You not only took me away from my home, you took my ability to truly consent with what I do with my life, with my body, you took that from me!" His tone breaks, edges higher, louder, and he's thankful for the padded interior of the space because he would have been sure to wake all of Storybooke by now. He sucks in a breath, _whooshes_ it out shakily, but he's as determined as ever, he's as _strong_ as ever. "But now? I am taking it back."

"I could easily, too easily, hold onto fear, to distrust, to question every choice I make from now on because of what you've done, but, as I've said before, I'm no longer your puppet. You are _powerless_ , Zelena, magical or otherwise. I am free of you."

She smirks, seems to have found her immunity to his words and attitude, as she rubs her pudgy stomach teasingly. _The baby_. "Well, not entirely, dear."

Robin sighs, not defeatedly or dejectedly, no, because this is not a victory for her, contrary to what she believes. His hands find purchase on his hips and he matches her smug smile, "No, that's one thing you are right about. But that child, the one you are using as a defense strategy to save your own hide, that is _my_ child. He or she will be born and _I_ will be the one to take that infant home, to care for it and love it, not to spite you, but _despite_ you. No matter how that child was created, no matter what I would change, he or she is innocent and will remain as such for as long as I have breath in my lungs- they will never hear a word of you."

Zelena guffaws at the thought and crosses her arms over her chest as she scowls at him, "So you'll what? Raise it alone? 'Cause single fathers are just so reliable."

He detects a bitterness in her tone, knows enough of her history to know that she had a rotten upbringing and in another, another time, perhaps Robin would have felt sympathy for her as he knows Regina once had.

But that was one too many second chances ago, before she devastated the legacy of his wife, obstructed the innocence of his son, tormented the heart of his soulmate, and violated his own mind and body.

"I've raised my son, on my own, just fine. And it matters not if I raise _my_ new child alone or if this whole bloody town signs up as co-parents because the important thing he or she will never be around _you_."

He spats the last word, feels vindicated in knowing that he is no longer under her control, no longer confused and out of sorts like he had been due to her charade and fraudulant appearance, he is the one in control. He will follow his heart, he will protect this baby once born, he will continue to raise Roland to be an respect, happy man, better than he or any Locksley generation before him, and, in doing such for their son, honor Marian, as she was, as well. And, Gods, he will definitely, as long as she grants him the pleasure, kiss and embrace and love Regina every day.

Without another word, without so much as another glance, Robin, feeling lighter than he has in months, as light as he felt that fateful night when everything changed, when he and Regina, with Roland inbetween, strolled to the diner, picks up the fallen chair and makes his way out of Zelena's room, shutting the door forcely behind him.

This is behind him.

Yes, new challenges will approach as the baby's impending arrival draws closer, but that doesn't keep him from being unfettered by Zelena's manipulations any longer. That anger, that resentment, those feelings of betrayal and mourning and bitter hatred, those had kept him bound to her have been purged. Like he told her, he is _free_.

He releases a breath, one that feels pent up and heavy, and he lets his body sag with the liberation.

Suddenly a hand is on his shoulder and his muscles tense under the touch, but he doesn't scare, nor start, or even pitch forward out of the grasp. Instead, he slowly pivots on his heel, a grin, a genuine, blissful grin, takes residence on his lips at the sight.

The hand belongs to Regina, who is standing in the the gloomy, dusty halls of the hospital in one of his coats, over her silk pajamas, the bottoms of her pants and her feet stuff into a pair of boots that he knows she'd never be seen in out of the cover of night. Her hair is unbrushed, but still falls flawlessly on her shoulders. She has moisture pooling in her eyes and a subtle, loving smile tugging at the corners of her marvelous mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Are the first words to trickle out of his mouth and he nearly slaps his palm against his forehead as a result.

She just beams brighter, steps tentatively closer to him, lifts her hand from his shoulder, and the other from the inside of his coat (it looks much better on her, he is not a lick of ashamed to admit), bringing them up to cup his face, "I can sense when you're not next to me."

An unspoken _"it's happened too many times before"_ falls between them, but as he goes to speak, what he would say, he's not sure, doesn't need to know as she reaches up and kisses his lips sweetly. She retracts, her thumbs coasting across his cheeks, "I figured where'd you be."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you or ask you to come along, it's not as if I don't always want you with me, I just.. acted, I didn't-"

He's interrupted, pleasantly, by her lips caressing his own, a bit deeper than the one before, and he hums into the kiss.

"You don't need to apologize, I'm glad that you did this, just you," Regina affirms, resting her forehead against Robin's. She places a kiss to his nose, a signature of hers that he loves more and more with every time it occurs, then she falls back on her heel looking up at him, "This has been about Zelena and myself for far too long, this insipid blood feud that you ended up being the collateral damage between. It was time that it was about _you_. That's why I didn't go in, but I did want to be here, for you to know I'm here, when you were done."

"Thank you, love," He leans down, kisses her hairline once, twice, a third time, feeling an immense swell of love and gratitude, once more, for the woman he's lucky enough to be in love with, "But what about the boys?"

Robin and Roland now live with Regina and Henry, so his concerns instantly morph to their sons, knows Henry, himself, is plagued by his own nightmares after the situation with the Author and Emma's current status as the Dark One, and hopes Roland doesn't awake, still getting comfortable with his new surroundings, without he or Regina there to aid him.

Regina rolls her eyes and he senses that is an action supposed to be done exasperatedly, but it appears more affectionate than anything. She sticks her hand into her pocket, retrieving a compact mirror and she shows him, where the glass would typically be, displays a side-by-side image of their sons sleeping soundly and he relaxes at the sight.

"Worrywart," She teases with a wink of her eye as she returns the magically corrupted device to the jacket, then presses against him, "Though, I'm not be much better."

"With the boys? That's normal, we love them..."

"No, with you." His brow furrows at her admission and he watches as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, looking up at him, through her lashes apphrensively, "I may have made it so I could hear what was happening in the room. I'm sorry-"

However, now it is Robin's turn to halt her explanation with a liplock, sliding his tongue across the seam of her luscious lips until they open beneath him and he inhales her, soaking in her love until they both pull away a bit breathless. "No more apologies," He decrees, followed by a sincere, "I'm glad you heard."

"I don't want you to think I want to intrude on your privacy, and I know you're capable of taking care of yourself, but I don't trust that green-"

He chuckles, bends to steal another peck, a chaste kiss that's barely a brushing of their lips, but a comfort to them both, it seems, as Regina's eyes close and she exhales softly, "So you don't mind that I heard?"

"Do you mind what you heard?" He poses to her and her answer is an immediate, definitive shake of her head.

Regina's palms find their way back to the planes of his cheeks as she exclaims, "I'm so proud of you."

"Now you know how I feel every day," Robin replies honestly, turning his head ever so slightly and kissing her hand.

"But, Robin..." She seems nervous again and they can't have that, not when they've both been feeling, acting, with more levity than they have since their first time being intimate in her vault, neither weighed down by Zelena, fully committed and present here, now, eachother. So he winds his arms around Regina's waist, bringing her as close as their bodies will physically allow, and she murmurs, "I heard what you said about the baby."

Before Robin can speak, before he can even begin to ponder where her train of thought will go, she supplies it for him, "You're not alone. I can't speak for the 'whole bloody town'," She paraphrases his declaration to her sister, adorably, accent and all, adds that weightlessness back to this moment, "But I can speak for me and I will love this baby as much as I do Henry, and Roland, and you."

"Really?" They've talked about it before, how could they not, but it's always been a discussion that was tense and uncomfortable, with Robin feeling silently strangled by his unexpressed emotions towards the mess they were tossed into, towards Zelena. But now, now Regina is smiling, not tight or forced, but wide and radiant, that smile that he has permanently ingrained in his brain.

She nods her head with vigor, "Have I been able to resist a man of Locksley before?"

It makes him chuckle, then he pauses, reiterating her words, "'Man of Locksley'? You think it'll be a boy?"

She shrugs, something mischevious in her eyes that he can't pinpoint, but he can't bring himself to give a sod about it as she shrugs demurely, then kisses the corner of his mouth, then his lips, "Let's just say I have a hunch."

They stand there, wrapped up in one another, with nothing perfect, but nothing ruined and Robin realizes, cements that as long as he has her, as long as he has Roland and Henry, as long as he has the Merry Men and the remainder of his friends, as long as he stays true to himself, to what and whom he loves, they'll be okay- _he'll_ be okay.

He glances at the door, the entry to Zelena's room, unable to see or hear her from his position, is well aware that this is not the last time he'll see that door, or _her_ , for that matter, but it's something he'll be able to handle. The wicked witch may have tried to take everything from him, but he stole it _back_.

"Ready t'go?" Regina whispers against his neck, he can hear fatigue beginning to drown her voice as her question slurs against his skin.

Robin ducks his head, meeting her eyes, her sleepy smile a perfect counterpart to the one resting on his face, as he kisses her, gently, "Yeah, I'm done here."

As the purple smoke of Regina's magic engulfs the air around them, Robin can't help but allow one last thought to linger on Zelena, with a smirk:

Don't ever try to steal from the best thief in all the realms.

 **(A/N: Okay, first of all, I'm still not cool with the baby aspect of this storyline and am forever in denial hoping, somehow, it's Nottingham's or something- I mean, really, how could that be more outrageous than what we're watching now?- because I don't want Robin, nor Regina, saddled with this mess of a storyline for the remainder of the show. But I wanted to keep this fic as close to canon as I could, hence why I addressed it. Also have no idea if it'll be a boy or a girl, that was just my little addition.**

 **This was a spur-of-the-moment fic that kept nagging me at 4 a.m. yesterday. LOL. I just love Robin, he's my favorite character and I find it utterly ridiculous that we weren't given his POV in ANY of this- I mean, even "his" centric episode was barely about him, but that's one of many rants for another day- so this was a bit of a cathartic piece for me to write. Hopefully any fellow Hoodies and/or OutlawQueen (my OTP who I love with my whole given, not stolen heart!) fans who read it like it as well.**

 **If you do love OQ and want an INCREDIBLE fic that is more focused on them, as a couple, dealing with this issue, you MUST go read a powerful, heartwrenching, beautiful, sexy oneshot by AsYouAre titled "Together", you will NOT be disappointed!**

 **Most importantly, thank you SO much for taking the time to read this fic, I very much appreciate it. )**


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